Even to Cincinnatians, long accustomed to drinking strange potions, the Ohio River can produce water of many unique flavors and most of them are anything but tasty. The urgency, then, to do something about the Ohio River has been with Cincinnati for a long time. Opinion leaders in Ohio's second largest city were hoping that something would be done before the Reds won their last pennant. Efforts of Cincinnati's newspapers, the Chamber of Commerce, and many civic organizations were at long last brought to fruition with the establishment of the Ohio River Valley Water Sanitation Commission.
This is a unique body in that it gets its authority, with Federal government blessing, from a compact in which eight states are joined. All of them, with a geographic and thirst quenching interest in the Ohio River, agreed to enforce regulations to stem the flow of sewage and to compel industries and cities to do something about the mounting problem.
Cincinnatians did not take long to move once the compact had been achieved. It was determined that a sewage service tax should be added to the water bills of all residents. This tax should be in sufficient amount to produce the kind of money necessary to build a complete sewage disposal system for Cincinnati and the neighboring cities and villages that are customers of Cincinnati's water works.
The city fathers knew they were not talking about pennies. It was estimated that necessary disposal facilities would cost upwards of $45,000,000. Four plants will be required to eliminate Cincinnati's contribution to Ohio River pollution, and the first of these was completed in the fall of 1953. It represented an expenditure of $5,000,000, and concurrent with its completion the city was ready to break ground for the second plant which would also be the largest, the latter at a cost of $22,000,000.
While Cincinnati was proud of its achievement in building the first disposal plant after the compact had been achieved, it was also realistic. The intakes for its municipal water works arc located upstream from the first disposal plant. Most benefits, therefore, from the $5,000,000 investment went to residents of Louisville, Evansville, Cairo, and other down river cities. Upstream from Cincinnati, there was little action but lots of talk about the necessity of doing something.
Planning the dedication of the first sewage disposal plant and the ground breaking for the second one was immediately interpreted as an opportunity to do more than simply administer a pat on the back to the taxpayers paying for the improvements. While Cincinnatians had every right to be proud of their achievement, they would not have much stomach for a wing ding that would only emphasize how magnanimously their tax dollars have been spent to provide Louisville and other down river cities with a better glass of water.
The pressing question, was that how can the dual events, the ground breaking and the dedication, be used to hasten some action in up river cities? The committee decided to take the spotlight off of the customary liturgy that goes into a dedication or ground breaking. It was decided that Cincinnati could best accomplish its purpose by using the event to hasten similar improvements in sister cities.
This is pretty drastic, said Dan Heekin, a veteran river man and prominent Cincinnati industrialist, but I'm willing to go to the Mayor and tell him that we're not going to have any flag waving, but just sell plain hard sell. Mr. Heekin, the Committee chairman, meant that the program for the events would be set up to merchandise just one idea here's how Cincinnati is doing it, let other cities do the same. Instead of a dedication ground breaking, the program was publicized as a Clean Water Rally.
Formal letters of invitation went out inviting a select group of city and county officials to come to Cincinnati and discuss the mounting problem of Ohio River pollution. As a secondary feature, they were told about the dedication and the ground breaking.
The mayors, city solicitors, county commissioners, etc., accepted the invitations in substantial numbers. It is a political fact that no one can successfully defend pollution, and that, like sin, it is something that Democrats, Republicans, Socialists, and probably even Communists, are violently opposed to. There was no harm; in fact, there was nothing but virtue in attending a meeting dedicated to the proposition that pollution is bad.
Arrangements for the rally were designed to further Mr. Heekin's determination to sell. The local committee was set up in such a way that each visitor was assigned a host. The host made a study of the visitor's setup back home knew if his city or village had made any progress in the task of erecting sewage disposal facilities and, in addition, made some discreet research into his political well being. He would know, for example, if an incumbent Republican mayor was saddled with a rough Democratic council or vice versa.
The host group was also carefully instructed to make use of a corps of experts that the committee recruited for the occasion. If the visitor indicated that the problem in his city was financing, there was an expert in the field of municipal tax problems to whom he could go for some quick advice. If engineering problems were troubling him, the committee had several accomplished authorities in the field of sewage disposal plant design and construction.
On the day of the rally, Cincinnati put out its red carpet. There was a police escort to take the visitors to the up river plant for the quick dedication ceremonies, and there was an Ohio River party boat docked nearby to take the visitors down the river to the second part of the program. There was a bar, good food, and plenty of opportunity for the host committee to do a job of selling.
Traditionally, a ground breaking is simply a matter of getting a chromium plated spade, putting it in the hands of the mayor or the governor, and advising the news photographers to go to work. With two governors, several score of mayors, and many other aspirants for either the title of mayor or governor on hand, it was immediately apparent that the customary format would not work. The Clean Water Rally Committee's solution was a happy one.
Mr. Heekin said that let's give them all a chance to spade, there's plenty of ground to turn, and we have the manpower to turn it.
As the visitors gathered at the site of the big disposal plant, each was given a spade a special spade with his full name and title in gold letters on the handle, with the inscription "First Earth Turned, Cincinnati Sewage Disposal Plant," and the date written across the pointed scoop. Trimmed with a bright ribbon, the spade looked more like a souvenir than a tool and that was just fine with the committee.
Included in the committee's multitudinous arrangements was a convenient package for mailing the souvenir spade back to the homes of the visitors. Little use was made of this device since most of the visitors insisted on carrying the tool as if it were a rifle, or jauntily swinging it as a cane. They had no disposition to risk the mails with their prize.
Cincinnati's Clean Water Rally Committee will probably never know how effective its efforts were in hastening the sanitation program along the Ohio. They were agreed, however, that purposeful showmanship can do a lot for traditional civic events and there are times when even a big city must learn the technique of "hard selling."
In the three preceding case histories the campaigns to rid Columbus of rats, to clean up the Ohio River, and to filter the air over Memphis industrial citizenship was at work for the community in terms of its health, safety, and general welfare. These three cases embodied most of the elements common to such worthwhile projects.
Others will serve to point out added kinds of opportunities for the exercise of citizenship, and the potentially wide variety of pertinent projects.
